returned it to
his pocket before he so much as glanced toward her.

"I may have. Why?" He picked up the bridle-reins, caught the
saddle-horn, and thrust his toe into the stirrup. From under his
hat-brim he saw that she was pinching her under lip between her teeth,
and the sight raised his spirits considerably.

"Oh, nothing. Aunt Phoebe called me back, and gave me a bottle of cream,
is all. I shall have to carry it in my hand, I suppose." She twitched
her shoulders, and started Huckleberry off again. She had called him
Grant, instead of the formal Mr. Imsen she had heretofore clung to, and
he had not seemed to notice it even.

He mounted with perfectly maddening deliberation, but for all that he
overtook her before she had gone farther than a few rods, and he pulled
up beside her with a decision which caused Huckleberry to stop
also; Huckleberry, it must be confessed, was never known to show any
reluctance in that direction when his head was turned away from home. He
stood perfectly still while Good Indian reached out a hand.

"I'll carry it--I'm more used to packing bottles," he announced gravely.

"Oh, but if you must carry it in your hand, I wouldn't dream of--" She
was holding fast the bottle, and trying to wear her Christmas-angel
look.

Good Indian laid hold of the flask, and they stood there stubbornly
eying each other.

"I thought you wanted me to carry it," he said at last, pulling harder.

"I merely asked if you had an empty pocket." Evadna clung the tighter.

"Now, what's the use--"

"Just what I was thinking!" Evadna was so impolite as to interrupt him.

Good Indian was not skilled in the management of women, but he knew
horses, and to his decision he added an amendment. Instinctively he
followed the method taught him by experience, and when he fancied he
saw in her eyes a sign of weakening, he followed up the advantage he had
gained.

"Let go--because I'm going to have it anyway, now," he said quietly,
and took the flask gently from her hands. Then he smiled at her for
yielding, and his smile was a revelation to the girl, and brought the
blood surging up to her face. She rode meekly beside him at the pace
he himself set--which was not rapid, by any means. He watched her with
quick, sidelong glances, and wondered whether he would dare say what he
wanted to say--or at least a part of it.

She was gazing with a good deal of perseverance at the trail, down
the windings of which the others could